#and he secretly is a little curious when he doesn't see it in the studio | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softquietsteadylove · 2 years

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I just read the little ballerina and boxer one and wanted to ask you if you can continue it. Maybe Gil showing up to one of her shows and invites her to dinner afterwards. And of course, he brought a single flower, because one flower says more than a thousand.

Hugs and much love! 🖤✨

"Bye Miss Thena!"

"Goodnight, girls," Thena bid her little goslings goodbye, the young women flitting out of the dressing room and already laughing about the cast party about to take place. Everyone was on their way for it, and as the newest troupe of performers making their debut, they would be the toast of things.

Thena was just looking forward to going home and getting some hard earned rest. Then, she could finally wake up to her normal life again. No more rehearsals, no more gruelling days of endless practise. She could go to the studio again.

She could see Gilgamesh again.

She hated to admit it, but she had missed even just seeing him in the hallway deeply over the past two weeks. The most intensive rehearsals required full commitment and attention, and that meant leaving classes to Sersi while she was chained up in the Eternal Theatre all day and most of the night.

She never used to think of it that way before.

But she missed the less pressured atmosphere of teaching classes with Sersi. She liked keeping a more normal schedule. She liked getting to see Gil's big, bright smile and his cute little wave in the mornings.

Thena groaned, running her fingers through her hair and throwing her scarf around her neck. She could torture herself more with those thoughts when she was home, preferably sinking into a hot bubble bath.

"Uh, sorry," he poked his head in with a sheepish smile, "door was open, so..."

Thena blinked as he walked in, one hand behind his back and the other in his brushed back hair. He looked rather dashing in a suit. "Gil?"

"Hey," he smiled at her, and the ache in her feet faded from her mind. "You were...wow."

Thena gulped, feeling her cheeks flood with warmth. She looked down, not-so-accidentally burying her nose in her scarf. "You're sweet."

"Well, you were, though," he shrugged, stepping in a little closer. He looked around him, seeing the many, many bouquets of flowers set around the counters. "But I guess you knew that."

Thena looked at the bundles of mostly red roses and arranged bouquets, shrugging at them. "It's a standard practise on the last night. Not all of them are for me, mind you."

"So a good number of them are?" he raised a brow, and she offered a more sheepish smile. He blushed, rocking back on his heels as he pulled out his hidden hand. "It's no bouquet, but-"

Thena gasped. It was a rose - singular - white in colour, clipped of thorns and leaves, bare stemmed save for a shimmering green ribbon tied in a bow around it.

Gil handed it over to her delicately accepting hands, his shyness showing through as he looked everywhere but at her. "I figured you'd get plenty, so maybe this would stand out...or something. And they offered me a white ribbon to match it. But I saw the green one and i-it matched the colour of your eyes, so I chose that one instead."

Thena's eyes were wide, bouncing between the flower in her hands and the beautiful man presenting it to her.

"I don't-"

"It's perfect!"

It wasn't the first time their words overlapped, and once again, Thena felt as if she was saying far too much within the two word sentence. But she pulled the flower as close to her as she dared, not wanting to rustle a single petal. It really was perfect, just like the gifter.

Gil flushed red to his ears, his laugh bubbling out of him. "O-Oh, good! I, well, uh-"

Thena looked up at him again from sniffing the rose gently. It was sweeter than any of the nameless, faceless bouquets around her from nameless, faceless people. "Gil?"

He tugged at his tie, clearly unused to it. "I was wondering...if - maybe - you'd, uh, wanna get dinner--sometime! Doesn't have to be tonight--you probably have a party, or something, with-"

"I'm free."

It was quieter than she thought it would be, but somehow she just couldn't get the air to stay in her lungs.

Gil looked surprised by her interruption, but he clearly didn't mind at all. He smiled, a sureness - a confidence - falling over him as he stepped closer still. He reached out, pulling her hair out of her scarf and fanning it out behind her. "I never get to see you with your hair loose."

Thena's eyes fluttered closed as he used the proximity as an excuse to kiss her forehead.

Then the flirtatious smirk faded against the brightness of his usual megawatt smile. "It's cute!"

Thena reached for her purse hung over the back of one of the chairs, hoping that maybe her blushing would subside a little (somehow, in the three seconds it took her to do it). "Well, where were you thinking of going?"

"I guess wherever you want to go," he shrugged, happily claiming her hand in his as they started to walk out of the dressing room. "I don't know if you want a big, huge meal or if something lighter would be better."

Thena laughed faintly, feeling his fingers squeezing tighter around hers. "If I had another show tomorrow I'd suggest something quite light. But I'm free as of tonight, so maybe something richer than usual wouldn't be the end of the world."

"If that's the case, I know this great Korean barbecue place."

"Sounds-" Thena startled as the backstage door slammed open.

"Miss Thena, are you coming to--oh!"

"Don't interrupt, didn't you see her boyfriend looking for her earlier?"

"Yeah, they probably have a date planned!"

The door closed again but the damage was done. Thena sighed; she was going to kill her little goslings for this.

#I actually might have some implications of a ballet past planned in another fic #so I wasn't sure how to go about the first one of this #but I ended up really liking it #so I'm glad to know the dynamic of it captured other people too #and for the record #Gil spent the whole two weeks #looking into the studio everyday #and being bummed when Thena wasn't there #Sersi had to tell him Thena hadn't had the chance to even come and check on them #but she was the one to tell him how to get a ticket for the last night of the show #and she was sure Thena would l o v e to see him there #Gil picked the white rose himself #and he secretly is a little curious when he doesn't see it in the studio #or her office or whatever #but Sersi tells him #entirely without Thena's knowledge #that it has a place of honour #in a vase on Thena's nighstand at home #and now Thena has to kill Sersi too #Thenamesh Ballerina/Boxer AU

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nightbystarriver · 1 year

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Nights At The Radio Station | Originshipping

If you ask Wallace, it's true that he is no stranger to odd calls every now and then. It's part of a radio host's work, after all.

The green light switched on, and from the corner of his eyes, Wallace sees his radio crew milling about around the room. Amber eyes meet his gaze — and here May is, sending him a quick wave before quickly turning back to her equipment. The other crew members are also working hard tonight — Brendan next to May, tongue stuck out in concentration, yet gaze still occasionally drifting to the girl next to him, secretly and with longing. Ah, to be young and in love, though Wallace supposes he is also not exactly in a position to complain.

Shaking his head, Wallace turns back to the mic before him. Three minutes more, and the night will fall once the green light turns up, and the studio will get running on their job. May and Brendan, for example, among a few others, are in charge of taking up listeners' calls before letting them through to the radio host — Wallace, in this case. Today's work is going to be rather relaxing compared to usual, for Saturdays are reserved for light chatting and music recommendations.

(And Wallace would not admit it, but Fridays are usually when the stories really go wild, what with it being labelled as 'for letting out all your heart's troubles and feelings' after all. Yesterday he had to listen to a fifteen-minute-call that detailed all the travails and ordeals worth of a person's life; and while he would always try his best to help his listeners no matter who they are, such a load of information at one time can be a little... exhausting.)

And the light switches on, and the crew give him many little smiles and warms up, and a smile naturally blooms on his face as he embraces the night with a hearty and blooming 'hello and good evening, my dear listeners!'. Time flows into words weaved into stories, and as it flows on, Wallace sits back on his chair and relaxes himself, feeling the many knots in his heart over the long week slowly untangle themselves away.

Perhaps it was this sense of ease and the fact that nothing too surprising has ever happened on Saturdays that led to Wallace letting down his guards.

The next call rolls in, and Wallace thinks he saw May widen her eyes for a split second in surprise before she presses the button to forward the call to him, hand covering her mouth in what could be a giggle. How curious. But he doesn't need to wonder for too long as the beeping sound rings out, which means the call has gone through. A smile comes naturally to the corners of his mouth (he loves doing his job, after all), and he greets his beloved caller with a hearty laugh: "Hello and welcome, my dear listener! May I ask what brought you here to us on this wonderous night?"

There is no respond. Worry starts creeping on his mind after a few seconds of listening closely and waiting. Has the connection been cut out? Is his caller lagging-

"Wallace." A warm, vaguely annoyed and deeply familiar voice rings out, and Wallace freezes. "Where did you leave my ring? I specifically told you to it on the bedside table before I went out this morning and now it's nowhere to be found."

Words get stuck in his throat for seconds that stretches seemingly to eternity. Shit, Steven's ring. The weight of that very same ring rests in his left pocket as if it did not just knock his world off its axis for one awkward moment. How does he convey that without sounding suspicious as fuck in front of his audience?

From the corner of his eye, he catches the director moving his hands in a flurry, signaling that he still has not spoken a word since. The mental image of Steven crossing his arms and tapping his shoe on the ground, the frankly cutest pout on his face crosses Wallace's mind as he visibly recomposes himself and leans into the microphone.

"Well, you see, dearest listener, the ring must have been mistakenly taken outside..."

"Dearest listener... hmph. New petname, I see. Isn't 'pampered prince' enough for you?" Someone in the room chokes, and Wallace feels like doing so too.

"In my defense, you are a little pampered."

"By who, I wonder." The voice cannot be dryer. "No dinner tonight for you."

"But you never cook, dear."

"I'm getting takeout." Yes, the voice can get dryer. "Don't forget the ring when you come home."

The call ends.

No one speaks for exactly five seconds. Then someone — probably Brendan — made a move towards the control board, and Wallace has to physically pick himself up for the second time in the span of five minutes as the next call goes through. At least his "Hello!" afterwards sounds natural enough.

After the Saturday's session finishes wrapping up and everyone bids their goodbyes, he tries to quickly leave the studio (and return to a very irritated dear person at home). May stops him dead in his tracks.

"Is that your roommate?" May whispers almost scandalously. Wallace decided to play dumb.

"Who?" Okay, maybe not that dumb.

"The person who called and talked about the- the ring, or- whatever that was. Was that your roommate?"

He would not exactly call Steven his roommate — more like his dearest lovely husband for two years and running strong now, with even more years of mutual pining before that — but Steven was the one who insisted on keeping their relationship a secret only to themselves, their dads and some other close friends. He was a relatively new celebrity when they first got married, and Steven did not want other people to think that his rise in fame is due to the Devon Corporation's money funding him from behind and not thanks to his incredible charisma — honestly, what happened to subtlety, Steven? Did he change his mind? Was he seriously angry? Why did Wallace forget to return his precious ring to its place? Oh, he might as well has fucked up their whole relationship! Sure he might be overreacting a little, he has always had a flair for drama, just leave him be — but the notion of Steven actually being angry at him refuses to leave his mind.

Alas, May is still waiting and the damage has already been done, so he just cracks a half-smile and nods curtly, trying to push through her to walk away. May just grins mischievously. Very foreboding.

"Roommates who also happens to use really cute petnames?"

"Good friends can also use petnames, you know."

May just chuckles and mumbles something along the line of "and historians call them roommates" — Wallace feels like he is being referenced without knowing what the reference is, but that is beside the point. He quickly waves goodbye and head towards the parking lots. He has more... important matters to deal with now.

Said more important matters is also sleeping on the living room couch when he gets home at the wee hours of two in the morning, his chest rising rhythmically in tandem with his breaths. On the table lies two boxes of takeouts, one still wrapped up nicely and one half empty, he could see it was his favourite — ah. Steven was not actually angry, then. Affections swell up in his heart like that of a boy on his first date as he kneels down besides the couch and tenderly presses his lips against the other's exposed forehead.

Steven stirred awake while Wallace gently holds up the other's hand resting on his stomach and return the missing ring to its place. He looks up to a pair of half closed eyes blinking up bearily at him, letting out some mumbled sleepy noises that sounds something like "welcome home", and Wallace feels his heart stepping one step closer to imploding at those words, the way it does everytime ever since they moved in together.

"I'm home." He brought the bony fingers up and pressed another kiss against it. The tired, yet honest grin that blooms on Steven's face melts all the worries of the diligent, professional Wallace away, leaving only the Wallace who cries over every cheesy romance movie and stays in the bed for five more minutes just to keep staring at his beloved's sleeping form. God, he loves his husband so much.

"Let's go inside, you will catch a cold like this." He gently lays rocks Steven back and forth. "Sorry about the ring, dear."

"It's fine, I didn't really mind." And then Steven swung his arms over his neck, and oh, Wallace's heart might have just actually imploded. "Carry me back to bed."

"Huh- Wait, my dear-"

And Steven is already asleep again, his arms somehow not loosening for one moment. Wallace merely shakes his head exasperately, his hands already moving down the other's back to lift him up.

After all, who is he to disobey the whims of his pampered prince?

#pokemon #fanfiction #originshipping #steven stone #wallace pokemon #alternate universe #there will be a part 2 #this is so self indulgent #i will ride with this ship till i die #its funny how i have to tag wallace with pokemon while steven just chilling with his stone #very inspired by that one erasermic oneshot on ao3

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